Tumbling Walls
by shadowtops99
Summary: Berlin's growing weak and is dieing thanks to the Berlin Wall, and wishes for nothing more than to die already, but Russia won't have any of it. Will he be able to spare Berlin's life from eternal death, or will the Battle of Berlin drive him up the wall and hurt the one he loves most? Rated T for love and language -rating may go up. OCxRussia, slight Gen.WxRussia
1. Chapter 1: The Pain and the Guilt

**BERLIN's P.O.V**

Numbing coldness blanketed me, stabbing at my insides. It hurt to breath, as the ice shards poked through my lounges and scratched at my throat. I could barely move; I was so weak. I could feel nothing but the aches and pains of my injuries and the feeling of my very own life being drained from me. The taste of stone and cement rang in my mouth, as if I ate nothing but rocks and roads. It won't be long until I die, and my existence would no longer be seen in this world.

I sat back against the wall, eyes closed, and could see nothing but darkness. I was too weak to even open them, and was too weak to do anything. I swallowed hard, feeling the warm saliva slide down my throat slowly. The darkness that my closed eyelids possessed matched with the cold feeling I had. All dark, lonely, and the color and feeling of death never took a break to take over me. The darkness were just like the communists on the other side of this wall. They wanted me, dead or alive.

I slowly raised my eyelids, peeking out of slim slits, partially revealing my ice-blue eyes. I could partially see the ruins that rested before me, and beyond that was an alley way, giving way to the western part of my territory. I could see some of my people, huddling together on broken cement peices or standing around, waiting for their next meal to arrive from the planes that dropped them. I weakly smirked, feeling thankful for the few contries that were wasting their time helping Germany and I. It wasn't necessary, knowing that I was going to die any way if this kept up. They were trying so hard, but yet my people were still dieing along side me. Dieing from the cold, chilly nights and from not getting enough food to fill their slinking bodies. They were there, dieing next to me, but also dieing for me.

I groaned, clenching my fists -or I believe I did anyway, of what little feeling I had left. I wish this pain would end right now, make this fight for me stop. I wish I would just fade away right now, and save Germany all this trouble. Oh, how I have failed him, and how I have failed my nation from defending them from the Soviets. I have failed my family, my friends, and my punishing result was death. It fit perfectly, for I was giving up on my life. I give up trying to fight when the truth was I can't, especially not now. I give up trying to help make the best of my nation when I couldn't even make the best of myself. I give up, I give up, _I surrender_. Let me die, I don't care, it would save me a lot of pain, and it would end my people's suffering.

_Mein Gott_, just let me die already...

**RUSSIA's P.O.V**

I walked up to the wall along with China and my general. We were all here to disguss further actions of what to do with our stubborn western side of Berlin. They just won't give up, will they? When will those Germans learn that they can never win? Their faces will always get crushed, and they will always fall down.

I watched as General Winter placed one of his gloved hands on the wall, and slowly walked down it's side with his coat gently scraping against the pavement. Every boot step he took, a loud thud followed, and I could tell by the way his jaw was set that he was smiling in satisfaction, but also mulling things over. He reached up adn took his hat off, scratching the top of his smoke-grey hair that was matted to his head. He placed it back on and turned around, facing China and I with a mischeivous grin on his face.

That right there even scared me, for I recognized the meaning of his smile. It usually meant he was planning something nasty for someone, and most of the time that was me. After all, he forced me to be his sex slave, and he is my general, making me vulnerable to any attack of his. I swallowed hard as his gaze shifted from China to mine, and the squirmy feeling in the deepest pit of my stomach went out of control. I was so tempted to grab China and run, and run far away from this man. I didn't like him at all, and had a grudge on him. When I remember all those times he enforced rape on me, and all those times when he made me bloody and bruised. Those memories will always remain in my mind forever, and never will I be able to forget them, no matter how many bottles of vodka I drink.

"I saw we just let the capital rot on the other side of this wall. If she grows any weaker she will surely die, but her people will try and stop that, and will do whatever it takes to save her, and that means surrendering to us. Berlin, and even the whole country of Germany will be ours." Winter laughed, revealing nothing but cold-hearted evil in his crinkling eyes. It was times like those when he laughed like the devil to make me wonder who was worse: him or Belarus?

"Berlin must be terribly hurt by now, I don't think she can put up with this much longer, aru." China said, and I noticed a ping of guilt and fear in his voice, a ping of feeling.

"Exactly." General Winter chuckled, throwing his hands up in the air. "She will crumble beside our wall, and soon not only her, but all of Germany shall be ours." I couldn't help but get the feeling that he was trying to act like those evil guys in those cartoons who try and conquer a planet.

"No aru! I meant I think she'll die soon! This wall is really affecting her. If Berlin dies, then what capital do we have left to capture, aru?"

Winter didn't say anything, but instead turned back around, facing the wall. "If Berlin dies then all we have to deal with then is Germany. He should be a lot easier to handle with Berlin out of the way." he smirked, chuckling darkley.

"No!"

China and Winter turned around and looked at me. Why? Why were they looking at me? I didn't do anything, I didn't say anything. I was just standing here, hiding the bottom of my face under my scarf, standing her innocently and listening to them ramble on about Berlin dieing... _Berlin dieing_.

Something about that wasn't right to me. Some part of me just wouldn't allow it, denying it, refusing it. Berlin can't be dead, she just couldn't. Death shouldn't be planned anyway, especially to a young girl who's long blonde hair flows like a ribbon in a breeze, all silky and shiny. Especially to a young girl who spent most of her life alone, feeling cursed, and cold to the outside world in which she had always shut herself in from. "No, you can't hurt her. She's already hurt enough as it is, don't hurt her, da?"

I soon realized that was my own voice whimpering, cowaring in front of China and Winter and begging for Berlin's life to be spared. But why was it _my _voice? I don't have any feelings for her at all, and I definately shouldn't have any. I mean it's not like her gorgeous, sparkling, ice-blue eyes sets me off, it's not like her beauty face makes my heart pound whenever I see her...

_Crap._

"And why do you care if Berlin is hurt or not, boy?" Winter growled, making me take a step back. I didn't like the look in his eye, for that too, I have recognized. "B -Because I want her to become one with me, like w -we planned, da?" that was the best I could do, but my voice still sounded weak and pathetic.

Winter just laughed, that creepy laugh that always put me on the edge of my chair, the laugh that always made the ahirs on the abck of my neck stand up. The laugh that made me realize how much danger I had put Berlin through by placing that stupid wall up.

And now I regret it...


	2. Chapter 2: The Dream and the Regret

**BERLIN's P.O.V**

Swift movements under the starlit sky, and after everystep and every glide I felt like I was walking on water. When he twirled me, I felt like I was only a piece of ribbon being blown in a gentle breeze. His grip was just so firm but yet soothing on my hips, and I can't help but sink down low in his grasp against his body. This stranger, for whom I literally couldn't see, for whom was all covered in shadows, was like a prince to my charming. His aura was just so incredible, and he made me feel as if the cold no longer existed in this world, and pain could no longer be felt in anyone's heart.

He spun me around again, once again making me feel like a ribbon. I didn't want this night to end; it was just so perfect. I placed my hands on his chest, and I could feel bare muscle under his clothing -of whatever he wore. His warmth engulfed me, and his arms fully wrapped around my waist, and made me lean slightly back. He titled my head up, and turned it to the side, touching his lips against my neck. I fluttered my eyes shut, feeling as if he was the naughty vampire and I was the helpless victim. Oh, his touch makes me feel as if he would always be my "Mr. Saxobeat".

I couldn't help but also feel something familiar about this "masked" man. The way that his "shadows" moved reminded me of the way Russia's scarf and coat flowed. He was about his height as well, and his shoulders were set the same way as Mr. Braginski's. I tensed up, my throat getting tight. Russia couldn't be this man who I have set as my "Mr. Saxobeat". He couldn't be this shadowed stranger, the one I have been dancing with all night, the one I was falling for, the one that was _nibbling and kissing at my neck_.

I gasp and tried to push away, but his grip was too firm and he bit down harder on my neck. I swore if he bit any harder, blood would be drawn. "R-Russia!" I gasp, trying desperately with all my might to let him go of me. "Let go! I hate you, remember? You hate me, stop _kissing_ me you bastard! Vhat ze hell is vrong viz you!" I struggled, and I desperately struggled.

His grip seemed to soften and his shadow let go of me. I fell to the ground, letting out a soft "oof" and looked up at him. I wish I could see his face to tell what he was thinking, but no. He was all black, no detail about him. I was confused, not even sure if this fantasy man was even Russia at all...

**RUSSIA's P.O.V**

I sat there, with my face buried in my gloved hands. What as I to do? I was killing the person I half admittingly loved, yet I couldn't do anything to stop it. What was I thinking? What am I thinking _now?_ I was torn between knocking the wall down, and knocking myself down. If I did something, General Winter would surely have my ass, but if I didn't, I won't even have Berlin's sweet face. How was I suppose to set this right? Of all the times she has complimented me, of all the times she had talked to me without a wince of fear, why had I decided to hurt her instead of Germany? I didn't even understand my own actions, so how am I suppose to understand her and her pain?

I groaned and took a swig of vodka from the bottle that was set on the table beside me. I whimpered and took a few more giant swigs, almost drinking the whole bottle in one breath. When it was completely gone, I threw it across the room, making it crash into the wall. I whimpered again, making sobbing sounds as I leaned myself back in the stupid chair and sunk down low.

"Berlin, you hear me, da? Please live, please live, oh please, please. Live for me, da? _Da?_"

I heard a snicker in front of me, and my mood darkened even more. I could feel his presence sneak closer to me, and his hand rested on the top of my head, tilting it up and making me look at him in the eye. I didn't know how sick and blue I looked, but it evidentally pleased General.

"Why do you beg for that girl's life? She is your enemy, and is one of them, the Nazi's, who had attacked _you_. You were first to suffer, boy, but yet you have double feelings for a simple girl who is only a capital." His face narrowed in close to mine, and I flinched as his ice cold, wintery breath traveled all through out my face. "Please, no." I gasped, trying to turn my head away.

"You beg for her, but why don't you beg for me?"

I swallowed hard, knowing what he was leading to. "Nyet!" I gasped, shoving him away and falling out of my chair. I stared at him with terror in my eyes. "Nyet, Winter, please!" I whimpered as he sat upon my lap. He leaned me back against the wall, and smiled the smile of the devil. His hands cupped my face, while mine lay frozen on the marble ground. I couldn't fight him back, why though? Why...

**BERLIN's P.O.V**

My eyes burned as I opened them. Though relieved that it was only a dream, the irritated feeling wouldn't go away. I whimpered a bit, weakly rubbing my face, but then letting my hands fall to the ground. The warmth I had felt, the happiness, the joy, the love had all melted away, and I was desperate to get them back. I slowly rolled over onto my stomach, letting out a sob as I did so. I began crawling, digging my fingers into the soft, damp earth, and pushed myself with all my might, yet my might was still weak.

"Come back, make me feel okay again!" I whispered. "Make me feel as if zere are no more worries in zis vorld, make me feel as if pain never existed, as if ze vall never got put up, make me feel happy, and make me feel as if I need you!" I shouted out, tears leaking out of my eyes.

"Make me realize I do need you."


	3. Chapter 3: The Hatred and the Failure

**RUSSIA's P.O.V**

I gasped for breath as he pulled away, trying to desperately clench onto the marble floors with my hands, but failed. My insides were burning, and it was painful. He is my general, da, but would that give him the right to set mostly my lower half of my guts on fire? I shuddered as the flames licked up my body, now blazing from the inside out. It hurt, and it hurt bad. I watched him as he leaned against the wall beside me, giving me a smirk that I wished that I could just swipe off of his face and torture it alive. There was only one person that I would give all my love to, and it certainly wasn't him.

"How did that feel boy?" he grinned. He had a dark and cold aura set around him, though it could be because his best winters were the ones served harsh and bitter, but still -evil. "It felt wonderful to me. Releaving, really. What about you?" he snickered, and once again I wished that I could torture him. Make him suffer. Oh God, someone help me, da? Help me escape, make him go away and help my panting return back to normal breathing, bring my pic axe to me, and get a bottle of vodka while you're at it too, da? I hope he doesn't mind his snow turning pink, with a little dead carcase in the middle that coincidentally held the looks of General Winter himself. Would he mind? I hope not.

"N-Nyet." I managed to sputter out. Some how, some how I managed.

He chuckled darkly, sending chills down my bare spine. He bent down above me now, his nude self brushing up against my bare chest. I shuddered, swallowing hard. '_Oh please, not another round! Have mercy you cyka!_' I thought helplessly. Another round of tears swelled up in my eyes, and I tried my best to hold them back. Showing him fear and sadness is just what he wanted, wasn't it?

Winter pulled away though, collecting his clothes that were balled up with mine in the corner of the room. "China will be here any moment." he muttered as he threw my scarf over towards me. "Pity, I wanted our fun to continue. Same for you, right boy?" he grinned.

Oh, he was way far worse than Belarus...

**BERLIN's P.O.V**

'_Die already you worthless hundin! Die!_' The thought kept echoing in the back of my mind, though how I could concentrate on it, I didn't know. I had a monstrous migraine- thank you wall for that. I needed the extra torture.- and I could certainly feel something warm trickling down my forehead. I smiled at the feeling, as I knew my goal wasn't far now. A few more cracks should do it, and then I'm home free.

_Crack!_

More blood trickled down my forehead, and into my face. I licked the saltiness of the sweet, red liquid. It tasted like Heaven now, though I knew that's not where I was heading.

_Crack-k!_

The sweet sound of death, my death. My vision is already blacked out. I can do this.

_Crack-ch!_

I screamed, both in defeat, pain, and pleasure. I could feel my skull crack open; what a lovely feeling when you're trying to commit suicide, is it not? And the nice, sickening sound of your skull bones being cracked open only made me want to jump with glee. It's amazing how I still have my concious, amazing how I am still able to think, though my hearing and sight are temporarily out of service. Well, soon it would be permadently out, but I'm still alive. I'm still describing the scene of how I die. My sweet death, my sweet people, my sweet Germany. I'm doing this for you. Shall I be like Italy and wave the white flag? No, I rather not. I'm not Italian.

_Crack-sh-ch!_

The final sound I hear. Good-bye cruel world; rose...bud...

Rosebud...

_Rosebud..._

_ROSEBUD!_

Why am I still able to think these words that were supposedly my last? I don't understand. Is my spirit gone, separated from my body at last? Funny, I never believed in an afterlife. It was one of those things that Germany and I never lifted a finger to understand nor cared for. Fate, afterlife, magic; they were all nothing but fantasies in a young man's mind, erm, England.

But was he right to believe in those things? Am I literally blind on a bridge that laid sprawled between Heaven and Hell if there were ever such things, such places? And where am I heading -Heaven or Hell? Will I be able to live an afterlife full of peace and love and will never have to worry about anything ever again? Or will I be tortured and enslaved, whipped and beaten against my will and relive the scenes and moments of which I have sinned?

No, I am just over reacting, but why? Why am I thinking on where I could be placed still? Am I not dead? Had I not just got done bashing my skull against the damn wall? I felt my blood splatter, and trickle down my face. I felt the pain, the misery it brought me. If I am not dead, then I wasted my time. I should be dead, and if not then I should die in a few moments due to blood loss. Damn it. Is it because I'm a capital? Is it because I have immortality like the countries, and unlike the humans? I'm no country, and I was born into a human family. I should've fucking died!

"Sheiste." I whimpered.

The pain was returning, I am now regaining my sense of feeling, and I feel hideous. "Sheiste, sheiste, sheiste," I kept cursing. I banged my fist against the hard ground, at least I thought I did. I couldn't tell. I was too focused on my pain and my failure of suicide. Oh how I wish that I could be back in that cozy dream and dance the night away, even if the shadowed stranger was Russia. Oh shit, that bastard is causing all of this! But right now I don't care.

All I care about is being dead...

**RUSSIA's P.O.V**

I looked into the mirror that was neatly placed on the wall. What an expensive looking mirror, sporting the reflection of a man who feels as low as dirt. Who was as low as dirt. Who was _lower_ than dirt. So here we are again, meeting face to face with myself, and this time I don't see the strong nation I once was on the inside. This time I saw a dispicable man, a man who needed to get out of my sight. I man who I would obviously sentence to death for doing such a greedy, harmful, murderous thing to my love. It's sad though. The man in the mirror was me. I should be sentenced to death; die slowly from slave labor. But wait! Aren't I already I slave to Winter?

"Patrols report of screaming and yelling on the other side of the wall, aru. They say it sounds feminine." China told the two men.

'_Like your voice that I once wished to crush?_' I thought angrily. '_Like your fragile body that I could easily snap as if it were a tooth pick? It is a tooth pick, da. A pathetic tooth pick I'm left to work with._'

"It is Berlin, no doubt. Has she finally had enough? No, no, no, let's make her suffer more." the squeaky yet haunted sound of General's voice. I clenched my fists. He cared about no one.

I whirled around, the ribbons of my scarf flying past my face. "Nyet! I will not have it!" I cringed, speaking through clenched teeth, that pretty soon by the pressure I placed upon them, were going to be smashed into white powder. "Why don't we just take over Germany right now? Berlin is weak enough, da? If his capital is weak, then so is Germany! We can do it, da? Da!"

"Still fighting for that girl, Russia?" Winter shook his head and swiftly strided towards me, our faces just centimeters apart. "Pick a side, boy, and stay with it!" His winter-mint breath traveled across my face, bouncing off of my nose.

"Please, not now, aru! We still have to decide on what to do with Berlin! If that was really her on the other side of tha-"

"It _is_ her!" Witner and I shouted in perfect union, which I immediately regretted. Any union formed with Winter was a dead one. "It is her, and Russia will be the one to retrieve her."

My ears perked up at this and I stared at my general for a few moments, and I was certain that both China and I had a "_what the hell?_" faces on. What was he talking about retrieve? And why? Berlin is not to cross our boarders, or could she? If she could, then why was I to retrieve her?

What is he planning?


	4. Chapter 4: The Inner Fight and the Vow

**BERLIN's P.O.V**

So many memories were flowing in my mind, and it hurt so much to view and remember them. Damn blood flowing out of my skull, out of my flesh and bone. It was like they too, were flowing out of my life. I could barely see the faint images that they brung. Short flashes of life, they were, and it burned my eyes, burned my body, and my soul as I tried to grasp onto them.

Memories of training with Germany, memories of torturing Prussia and being tortured back by him -what fun that was. Memories of eating Italy's pasta, memories of talking to France without having to worry about anything, and memories of Russia.

Oh Russia. Why are you doing this? How would you like it if we, the Germans, had placed a wall around you? Splitting _you_ in half and make you suffer this unbareable pain like you are forcing me to do? Why don't you just come on down here, and I'll be happy to give you a good round of fists being launched upside your childish face. Why won't you stop this madness? You're killing me; what a murderer you are.

My vision became even more slurred. I couldn't keep this up much longer.

_Die! Let me die!_

I've lost enough blood as it is, both from war and from the wrecked wall.

_I don't want to face this anymore!_

I have scars, cuts, and bruises in places where they shouldn't even be.

_Oh the pain, let me knock this pain off with my damn revolver!_

_Buck Dich _Russia, _buck Dich sie Hundin_! What are you, the _Engel des Todes_? Leave me alone! Leave Germany alone. Just go die in a hole! Rot in hell. My heart may be broken by that but damn it how can I love someone if they are killing me? Yes, I admit it, I love Russia, I love that son of a _Hundin_ to pieces but yet how could I? Just leave me alone, Russia. Kill me, see if I care, but just leave me and all the people I care about alone. I just can't take this or you anymore...

**RUSSIA's P.O.V**

I felt weak standing by the wall that _I_ had put up to hurt her. I placed my hand on the piece of concrete, bending down and breathing heavily. What was Winter wanting to do with Berlin? Why bring her to the Eastern side? It was most likely she would die if she was to be moved. We all know she's been staying there by the wall for weeks. And what is he trying to get with me? The Germans on the other side of the Wall would absolutely kill me if they saw me over there!

I stared at the piece of torturous work. I rested my forehead against it, still breathing heavy, "Berlin." I murmured.

'_Oh how I love you! I don't want to hurt you ever again! Please forgive me my beautiful sunflower!_'

**BERLIN's P.O.V**

I heard a sound, and jerked my head towards that direction in which it had came. Big mistake though, as I almost broke my neck. I let out a semi-yell, though it sounded more like a growl from a wild monster due to how much my throat had cracked. I must still be losing blood. Good. I'll die quicker. I already couldn't open my eyes.

I heard a slow shuffle of what sounded like feet. Slow and dragging at first, but as it became louder it also became quicker. I heard whimpers and sobs from the newcomer, which didn't help me none when it came to figuring out who it was. People all over my nation were sobbing by now. Sobbing and dieing with me.

More shuffles and sobs, whimpers and shallow breathing. The shaky kind you get when you start crying. There was a loud shuffle, and I somehow knew that they were now beside me, kneeling down beside me. This sent a whole new rage through my body. Just kneel there, yes, and let me die. You stupid German, who's side are you on? Hell, are you even German? Probably not, since you're just sitting there watching me bleed to death. Good. Continue. It's not like I want to live anyway.

"Berlin,"

I tensed -well, I think I did. Still, had little feeling, little emotion. But was that the voice that belonged to _him_? No, it couldn't be. My mind was playing tricks on me. It does that to a person who's dieing. The mind can play harsh games with you, whether in life or in death, your own being will always be harsh against you. And it was being harsh against me right now; playing tricks on my mind, making me think that Russia was right here beside me. Cruel death. Make him go away.

"Berlin... Berlin... _Berlin,_"

More whimpering, sobbing, weak strokes of the strong nation's voice. I tried to open my eyes; the most I could do were slits. I saw his outline; reminding me of that dream I had of dancing with his shadow. I saw his sparkling, violet eyes and my heart stopped, it seemed. Or maybe I was just over reacting. The pain I feel; it's like my heart had stopped a long time ago. But with Russia's eyes, the color, the feeling within them, they were just too overwhelming. The eyes, the looks of my enemy, lowered me, my guard. His whimpering, sobbing, made cracks within my being. It made new cracks, and deepened the ones that were already there. Oh Russia, my poor Russia.

I saw his face come closer, resting his forehead ontop of mine. I couldn't feel him though, which was no surprise to me. I watched as his lips trembled, and tears slipped down his cheeks. I had urges to wipe them away, to comfort him. Such urges made me who I am. I'm no fighter. My urges to move and place my hand on his cheek, fix and adjust his scarf. My urges to grip onto his coat tightly with my two bare hands and cry into his own being, cry and tell him everything was either alright, or I'm dead and to let me be. Life would be better off without me. Don't be here. Go now to your leaders and command your Soviets to finish me off. Destroy me once and for all. You don't need me. No one does.

No, I'm no fighter, though my instincts of war cannot escape me, and will forever drive me insane. But how can I not fight _him_? The causer of my pain. He was meaning to kill me, is wanting to kill me, and forever wants my presence gone. To see my blood spilt on the hard coverned ground, and stained upon his brown, leather gloves. Is that not the thing that would please him most? To see his victim of whom he has been torturing for so long to be dead? German instincts of war or not, he is still my enemy who had tried to kill me and overthrow the country of Germany itself to be claimed as his. He is still a threat, no matter how much the violet streams of his eyes seduces me.

But yet how can I not let my feelings drift from me? He was crying, the Motherland, he was crying, and I cannot do anything to catch his dear tears. He was crying before me, crying next to me, crying upon me and yet I could not move. I could not feel anything besides the pain of my emotions. Anger, hate, sympathy, sorrow, love. Many things that I thought I would never yet had always felt for this nation.

The pain.

It swallowed me again, the longer he held me. Both emotionally and physically, I cried. The tears of my own being burned my skin as it trailed down my filthy cheeks. The first time in a long time, I cried. It stung, like piercing knives, it stung. He made it sting. The midst of his presence made it sting and I could do nothing to shove him away. I could not speak; my throat was swollen from damage and sobs. I could not move; the numbness was to great. My insides burned as if fire was set among them; and my heart was breaking from the most simplest outbreaks.

"R-Russia," I breathed. He stiffened beside me, but yet I heard a sigh of relief come from his mouth...

_**RUSSIA's P.O.V**_

She lives, she breathes, and I am so greatful. I clenched my eyelids shut even tighter as I pressed her tighter against me. I never want to let her go, never want to hurt her again. I raised my head and buried my face into her golden, blonde hair. Though she was covered in dirt and filth, her hair still carried the scent of her strawberry conditioner. Ah, how long has she went without a bath, and she still carries the familiar scent that always tickled my nose?

Still, even though she was alive, I couldn't stop crying; and I didn't know if these are tears of joy and celebration for her life, or tears of dread and sorrow. Perhaps I was feeling all of the above emotions. I could've killed her. Hell, I _am_ killing her even as I am holding her in my arms, protecting her from any harm around us. I'm killing her as I was protecting her. The proof was on her head; the blood that leaked out by the gallons and stained the hardpacked earth and cement wall.

"R-Rus-sia,"

Berlin called my name again, and I let out a weak whimper. She barely had enough strength to say my name! Something that could so easily be said in a hushed whisper could barely be heard and said by my beautiful sunflower! I held her even closer, sobbing into beauty. Oh how much I love her, how much I wish that she could stay by me forever. How much I wish I could admit to her the feelings that I have. Yes, I am in love, so very much in love with her.

I felt her struggle against me though; not physically, but I could sense it. She wanted not to be hugged by me, and who could I blame? I wouldn't want to hug myself either for what I have done. I let go of her, but just barely. I could not stand to feel her fading warmth be completely faded away.

"Russia, v-vhat..."

My poor sunflower; she could barely speak. She must be summoning all of her strength to speak these words.

"Zey'll k-kill you R-Russia. Get out... now... please... d-don't die."

I could've laughed right now if grief and guilt and sorrow didn't clog my voice box. Of all the dangers, of all the situations and health problems that she herself is presently going through, the very essence of her life being drained from her very soul, she is worried about me? She is worried about me, the healthy one, the one not bleeding to death, the one who does not have a wall splitting my life in half, the one who is evil, the one who is killing her. The dieing sheep wants the corrupted wolf to live so he could kill her more?

"I don't care," I had replied. "Let the Germans kill me, at least I would die with my last moments of life hugging and holding onto you." And it was the truth. I have always wanted to hold this beautiful woman in my arms, though I never imagined the moment to be now or the situations to be like this. But I have her now. I have her with me now.

How thoughtless and selfish of Winter to want to kill this wondrous beauty. How could he? Such a young girl, so young and hopeless, still learning the secrets of the world that I had once plan to crush. Ah, how Germany was lucky to come across her when she was still a small chibi. I would have loved to raise the love of my life, watch her grow as years progressed, and will have her for my own someday. And I wonder, did Berlin look just as beautiful when she was a chibi as she does now?

"Leave,"

And so she urges me, but how can I? I can't leave her dying here, and I had to take her with me back to the eastern side. But almost any movement to her fragile being would most likely break her, snap her in half. But I must take her, I cannot leave her. I vow I will help her, heal her, love her. I will make her my number one priority -this battle second, and General Winter third. I vow to protect her, and I pray onto the moon that if I ever fail to do this, if she dies or becomes in even worse condition, I vow and pray that I myself will no longer see another snowflake swiftly fall upon my land.

I, myself, will be dead...

_Buck Dich sie Hundin_ - F**** you you bit**

_Engel des Todes_ - Angel of Death


	5. Chapter 5: The Warmth and the Sisters

**BERLIN's P.O.V**

I must've lost concious, because when I woke up, I wasn't where I should be. I was in a different environment completely; I was in a room laying on a bed, three doors cornered the room, white walls, fancy furniture, and no trace of war debris and dieing souls. No smell of airplane fuel or the smell of my blood. This place felt so foreign compared to the Wall.

I still felt drowsy and weak though. Numb, cold, weak, fragile, feeble. I felt no better than what I did back there. My face still stung from the tears I had cried.

_Cried_.

I havn't done that in a long time. Only God knew when was the last time I had shed tears. But yet, somehow, and for some reason, I cracked, and the salty wetness leaked. Why? I couldn't remember much. I remembered bleeding and pain, but not any physical pain other than the tears. Emotional, yes. Why emotional? What emotion made me cry?

I closed my eyes, and they burned even more. I felt so helpless as small little pieces of information floated back to my brain. Russia was there, he was crying, I was crying, we both were crying. He was hugging me, and I couldn't feel it. I felt desperation though, I sensed it emitting from his body. Desperation. He was desperate, I was limp. I was helpless. I couldn't even raise a hand to wipe away a tear. I spoke; I warned him.

Now what?

Perhaps now I was dead, and I am now resting in Heaven's hotel room. I feel nothing because I am still in the process of recovery. My spirit shouldn't be awake yet, and I should go back to sleep. And as for Russia, maybe the Germans found and captured him, or he listened to my warning and left, leaving me to die just as I asked of him. Yes, those were the answers. I am resting, my soul is at peace. Germany's life will now be easier on without me. I can now lay here and not have to worry about failing my nation, for that is what I had done. I had failed to protect him from the Soviets. But no worries now. I can rest, I can sleep happily and peacefully without being avenged by Death. Death can no longer swallow me and engulf me with it's coldness. Death will now leave me alone; I am dead.

I heard a creak of a door, but I chose not to take that much notice of it. It was just one of the many hotel angels coming in to fluff my pillows or check in on my resting soul. I will let it. It was it's job, it's duty, and I know not to mess with one's duty.

I heard the floor creak as well, and every creak became slightly louder until I felt the angel's presence beside me.

"Berlin," it sighed.

It knew my name. If I could, I would've smiled. Such a heavenly voice; so light, so thrilling. Such a lovely tone; so gentle and calm, filled with peace and sadness. Sadness?

I opened my eyes slightly again and saw the angel standing above me. He wore a long tan coat with a long scarf, silver-blonde hair, violet eyes. He was tall, but that could just be because I was laying down in the bed and he was standing. I saw his eyes start to glisten as I continued to stare at him, but he gave no other movement or said anything.

But then I recognized him. He was my enemy. The snake with violet eyes. Mr. Ivan Braginksi, why are you here? Are you dead too? Are we sharing the same hotel room?

I then realized: I wasn't dead. I was still, in fact, alive, and my enemy was standing before me, watching me suffer like he did before. He must like watching me crumble and fall, break into tiny little pieces. It must've amused him to see a young girl like me die. It must amuse him to see anyone die in fact. How evil he was, evil and mysterious. No one understood his actions, nor did they want to in any way or form.

"Berlin," he said again, and placed a hand under my chin, smiling down at me gently. I continued to stare at him as my skin absorbed the warmth of his gloved hand.

I gasped, and it sounded shallow, weak, ill, but a breath that I could take without my lungs bursting. I could actually feel the warmth from his hand, and how marvelous did this warmth feel. So relaxing, relieving, amazing. I was getting drunk from the warmth, dizzy in a magnificent way. I wanted more warmth. I wished that his hands were large enough to cover my whole body right then. I needed this. I felt so cold, so weak; the warmth felt reassuring and somehow -at least I believe it did- strengthened me.

"R-Russia," I breathed, fluttering my eyes slightly closed. I moved my hand -at least I still think I did. Being so numb can make it so confusing- and placed it upon his. The warmth soaked through my hand, and traveled inside my veins. I swallowed hard, and let out a deep pant. So little warmth felt just so amazing. It was thawing me, melting away the ice crystals within my body. The feeling of being locked away in a huge ice cube slowly faded away.

He smiled, so gentle and sweet. He sat on the bed next to me and placed his other hand on my cheek. More warmth flooded within me, and I placed my other hand on his again. "S-So warm." I sighed. He tilted his head, still that childish smile played upon his lips. "So it is the warmth you seek, da? It is not easy here in Russia to stay warm as it is always cold, my sunflower."

Sunflower. The word rang in my mind. My brain refused to let go of it. It was like the word itself gathered warmth within me. _Sunflower_.

He laid down beside me, and wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my neck, and the clash of heat begun. It felt amazing, as if I was placed in a nice, relaxing tub of hot water. He was so warm that I thought he was gonna burn me, and leave red, painful burn scars on my skin. But I knew that I couldn't happen, and so I continued to lay there, my head bent back, eyes closed, hands on Russia's back and pressing him to me as if he could enter my body like a ghost. I never wanted this warmth to stop. And what more? Warmth coming from _him._

For the first time in a long time, I could actually feel something. I felt warmth, and I felt his breath bouncing off of my neck. I even started feeling stronger emotions, and I admit even more now that I love him. He was there at the wall hugging me, and now he's here supplying warmth for me. Remarkable, but yet out of character? No matter though. I was being warmed by the warmest heart I know.

He buried his face in my neck even more, and I can feel his face features pressing against my skin. His hot breath focused on one point on my neck now, and Lord and behold, it had to be the jugular. I clenched my eyes shut tight, trying not to make the slightest peep as the sensual feel made an over whelming feeling in the deepest pits of me. I don't think he had any idea of how sensitive he was making me feel. The heat from him was amazing, but made me want to squirm and moan.

_Mr. Saxobeat_.

The dream drifted back to me like a silent wave of ribbon. Dancing with his shadow, and the glorious feeling that came with it came back. That moment I felt when the shadow nibbled at my neck, it was tension, blessed tension. Confusion was added in there too, but passionate, blessed tension was what I truly felt towards the black figure. And now, it is as if the shadow solified even more and took color, forming into the Russian man that is right here next to me, breathing into my neck, driving me insane.

The dream, the feeling, it all came back. The tension, the passionate connection, the joy of it all.

I finally moaned, letting out a soft gasp of breath as well. Now it felt as if my neck was on fire and was burning. So sensitive was that part of the neck. Fire that dwelled within me and refused to leave any burn marks.

I felt him pull away, and I stared at him. He stared at me, too, still with soft, streaming violet eyes. I felt so touched by them, so frozen with love for him. I wanted to stay here forever, and just stare into his eyes. Wonderful, magnificent, they were. Calm, gentle, violet eyes that sparkled with sadness. His eyes shone as if he was crying, yet I knew he wasn't. At least not at that moment anyway. He stared at me, and I stared at him. None of us had a word to say to each other, though I wanted so desperately to talk, to ramble out a million questions and remarks. But his eyes kept me frozen; and it wasn't like I could talk anyway. My throat still burned; and I knew I would absolutely bust my voice box if I tried to speak.

He pulled away even more, and I no longer felt the nice warmth that radiated from him. My insides grew cold once again, and I felt weak. I grew numb, and even more desperate for warmth than before. My head throbbed from the sudden change, and I began whimpering, though it came out as nothing more as a slight slither of breath. My breathing became shallow, and I began to feel light headed. Where was I again?

"No, no no no no!" I heard Russia gasped, and I felt warmth on my hand. I looked down, and his hand was grasped onto mine. I smiled, but only slightly, as my vision began to get blurry once more. I closed my eyes. "R-Russia."

I then felt streams of warmth trailing on my forehead, caressing my eyebrows. "Oh, my beautiful sunflower, you need rest. You need to heal. I want to see you bloom with all your beauty, and to do so, you need rest. Sleep now, and rest your eyes. Rest your body, and I promise you I'll grant you more warmth later." He continued to trace his fingertips over my eyebrows, and eventually the back of his hand slided down my face, resting on my cheek.

"I-Ivan."

He made a smirking sound, and I imagined him smiling as he held the side of my face in his hand.

"Shh, my beautiful sunflower, my only sunflower. You are safe here. Now rest. I'll be back later to check on you."...

* * *

**RUSSIA's P.O.V**

I sighed as I gently clicked the door shut behind me. She was just so beautiful, and too precious for me to ignore. That moan of her's, it really had set me off, though I couldn't help but get the feeling I was hurting her. I couldn't hurt her. I wouldn't hurt her.

I looked up at my two sisters standing before me. Ukraine looked worried, and Belarus... well... scary as always, but even scarier when a scowl was etched across her mouth.

"What was that moan all about, Big Brother?" she growled, making me want to run to the nearest door and hide inside the room, locking it so she couldn't get in. "W-What moan?"

She took several steps towards me, and I coward against the door. Belarus and Winter... such scary forces.

"Sister and I both heard a moan come from that cyka from the other side of that door!" she hissed. I didn't say anything, and she took a step back, a smirking grin on her face. "If that cyka thinks she's going to have my big brother all to herself, ohhh, she has a thing coming to her." Fire were set to her eyes and she curled her fingers and raised her hands, palms up. I stared at her, terror in my eyes. That is just scary, having a sibling who wants to marry you, and tries to force you to marry her.

Then my other sister, Ukraine walked up to me. Hard to ignore the booming sounds of her... erm... breasts... and she approached. Belarus gave her a hard, cold stare as she did. "Oh, Brother Russia! Is she alright? Is she dead?"

"That cyka better be dead!" Belarus hissed.

I stared at them both, mainly at Belarus for saying such a cruel thing, but then at Ukraine. "Nyet, she is not dead." I glared at Belarus, giving her a '_if you touch her you are dead but I probably won't do anything to stop you since I'm afraid of you'_ look, which probably didn't help matters none. "She is just terribly weak, and she needs rest."

"That stupid cyka should just die Big Brother! She is your enemy!"

_An enemy I so dearly love,_ I wanted to say, but I knew all too well where that would lead.

"Just leave her alone and let her rest. When she is better, I'll kill her." I lied, but really didn't care how much my lie sounded fake. All I want for now is for Berlin to be safe. I'll have her in my arms later, but for now, for her to be safe...

* * *

cyka: bitch

nyet: no


	6. Chapter 6: The Stress and the Foolish

**RUSSIA's P.O.V**

I sat there in my chair with my face buried in my gloved hands, stressed, angered, and worried. My sisters had fought before I shooed them out of the house. They had fought over Berlin, and about Berlin, and about what I should do with her. Ukraine fought to keep her safe, to heal her and help her fragile soul. While of course Belarus fought just the opposite of that, wanting her death, and what was worse was that she wanted _me_ to kill her. I couldn't do that. I couldn't let Berlin's blood spill all over my arms.

_"_But she is young, very young! All souls deserve to live!" Ukraine had said, giving her sister a saddening glare. She stood with her hands tightly gripping onto each other under her chin. She didn't dare to move, in case she risked embarrassment of her big breasts. "Berlin is like a sister to me! She always treated me right! It is not fair for her to die!"

Belarus would not have any of it, and she glared angrily at her. "But her and Germany are the ones who attacked Big Brother first! Them and the Axis! She should die! She should crumble under Big Brother's handesome power!" Her hands were also clenched, as well as her teeth in which she spoke through. "That cyka is an enemy and has done severe damage to Russia's capital, Moscow! It was the Germans who attacked first, and the Soviets are right to hit back! The Nazi's has taken several lives of Big Brother's men and innocent citizens, so what difference will it make if we do damage to the capital and take _her_ life?!"

That was the moment when I got up from the chair I was sitting in, pushing Russicat off of my lap as I stood. I had enough of the bickering between my two sisters. I have heard both of their point of views, and I wished to hear no more. The longer I had sat there, the more my anger started to boil up inside of me. I wanted revenge on the Nazi's, wanted revenge on Germany and the Axis, and even sweet Berlin. But yet I was torn between revenge, and love for the beautiful capitol.

I had managed to get myself between the two fighting females.

"Stop!" I growled. I was certain that anger was flashing in my eyes and that it was consuming me the longer I had to hear and see them. "This war doesn't involve you!" I spat, glaring at them both angrily. "And I think I should decide on what I'm going to do with Berlin since she is, after all, my concern! She is the one who attacked _me_, so I think that _I_ should deal with her consenquences! This war is with the Nazi's and the Soviets! The Belarusians and Ukrainians are _not_ to be involved with this, so don't start!"

The harshness in my voice had made them freeze and stare at me in fear. I didn't care nor mind. I have had enough of this. It was true the Germans attacked us first, bombing my cities and killing thousands of innocent Russians, and it is true that we have every right to strike back, like a cobra, in their faces. But it's also true of Berlin. She was still very young, teenaged. I love her, and I don't want her to die, but yet she had to face charges of the damage she has done!

No, what am I thinking? She can't. She already faced her charges. The Wall that I had built was punishment enough. She was dieing, trembling, crumbling; her internal walls were tumbling down like a tower of kid's blocks. She has lost too much blood, growing weak by the second though I am trying to nurse her back to health.

"I am sorry Big Brother!" Ukraine had latched onto me, hugging me tightly. I sighed, but didn't move. I stared at Belarus, and saw the hatred in her eyes. She didn't want me to come anywhere near Berlin, and wanted to kill her personally. I tightened up inside, furrowing my brows. "I want you two to leave, da, go."

And they left, leaving me alone to curse under my breath and beat myself to pieces.

How am I suppose to do this? I love Berlin with all my heart, love her more than anything, even more than vodka and piroshki's. I want her in my arms, and for her to return the love that I have for her with equal force. I would take pleasure in making all of every nation crumble and be placed under my rule except for her. I would spare her, keep her by my side. I love her like there was no tomorrow, and maybe, possibly, there isn't going to be a tomorrow for her. She has grown so weak, so vulnearable to death, and I have only grown stronger and I'm winning this war at a certain point. They're still fighting, Berlin's still fighting, and I cannot grip onto her flying figure. I want to help her, but how when General Winter and the Soviet Union expects me to kill her?

I stifled a choking sob as the footsteps of Lithuania became louder, aiming towards me. I looked up from my hands and stared at him, and for a moment or two, I knew they were blood-shot.

"M-Mr. Russia," And I knew from the sound of his trembling voice that he was afraid of me. Good. Everybody was.

"Berlin requests to see you."

My throat tightened even more and my palms began to get sweaty in my leather gloves. I swore my heart began to race a mile a minute at the mention of her wanted to see me. The way she felt right now, the sickness, the weakening soul, she wanted to see me? I smiled, but soon my nervous joy began to fade into more stress.

"You bothered her? In the condition that she is in, you bothered her?!" I then started "kol'ing", and clenching my fists, staring at my servant. Lithuania stumbled back, terror in his eyes, flashing his palms up as if he was to tell that he was innocent.

"I walked by her door and heard her moaning your name very painfully! I assumed she wanted to see you, so I went to get you. I didn't enter the room, I swear, Mr. Russia!"

I sighed and stood once again from my chair...

**BERLIN's P.O.V**

He was everywhere. Reflections of his being surrounded me as if I was in a room full of mirrors. They all stared at me, and I couldn't read the expressions on their faces. I was starting to feel claustrophobic, dizzy, light headed, as the room along with the multiple Russia's started spinning. I collapsed to the ground, still spinning, still surrounded, and fear was starting to hold in my throat and grip onto me with boney hands.

"Russia," I growled, though it actually sounded dull, and weak. I wanted to get out of this death circle. I needed space. I needed air. And I cannot find it. "Russia!"

I flet something touch my cheek, but immediately thought that it was my hair. I turned my head, pushing my blonde hair out of my face as I continued to stumble and fall in the world's fastest twirling room. The warmth of the touch was still there, but I made so little mind to it.

The ground opened up under me, and I fell. The room stopped spinning at least, but that didn't really do me any good. I was still sick to my stomach, my eyes still spun along with my body as I tumbled through the air.

The feel of hard concrete knocked the breath out of me. Tears would've flooded my eyes if I wasn't a survivor and a warrior for my nation. It felt like all of my bones broke, and pain shattered all of me. Pain flooded my insides so hard, and I started to feel numb and internally cold, as if I was by the Wall again.

But that was exactly where I was. Pieces of cement and rubble were everywhere from the previous World War II. Germany's cities were in ruins; houses crumbled, war debris covering the grounds, starving families who were hungrily scuffing down their plane-delivered food packages were every where in the streets. I watched as a little boy came running to his mother carrying a small package of ham and bite-size vegetables though the alley way. This was the Battle of Berlin. A small amount of relief washed over me for a split second, as I realized that France, Britain, and America, along with Germany himself, won't stop fighting for us, and that my people will remain safe in their arms.

But that was only for a split second, and almost too quickly, pain and suffering consumed me once again. I could no longer feel the roughness and the jagged ends of the cement pieces. The air no longer seemed fresh to me, though I couldn't breath that much anyway. I wanted to blame Russia for all this pain. I wanted to blame him for all the damage he has done. And I do. I do blame him. It is his fault that I am like this. Or is it?

Dread also creeped into my thoughts.

_We_ were the ones who attacked him. We were the ones who bombed Moscow and the reasons why there was World War I and World War II. Perhaps we are receiving our punishment after years of war? I knew he wanted revenge, and what perfect way to get it than to attack the nation's capitol who had attacked his? And I will die. I will die in regret and foolishness. I am no Nazi. I cannot bare this any longer. True Nazi's fight 'til the end. Me, I can't fight. I have given up. I have accepted death instead of victory that belonged to us.

"Ru-uh," I spoke through clenched teeth, trying so hard to block out the pain. Luck wasn't on my side though, it never was, so of course the pain I felt -both physically and emotionally- drifted through like it was a natural breeze.

I saw his face now. It was so vivid, so clear, and he was staring down at me, standing before me. The glitter in his eyes cast amusement, and I felt foolish to have ever fallen for their beauty. I was foolish to love my enemy the way I have loved him many times before. _Mein Gott_, all the memories drifted back to me. I remember watching his childish face smile happily during the World Meetings, I watched amusingly as he kept scaring the poor Baltics. I watched as he slowly crept, inch by inch, away with his chair from Belarus during those meetings. Once or twice, or possibly more than that, I caught him staring at me. And each and every time, I felt mesmerized by his eyes, by his childish face that always held a smile while France and Britain fought and argued. Mesmerized by his broad shoulders, silver-blonde hair, round nose, and everything about him; he always cast me in a trance.

And now, though it brought me heart ache and more pain, I realize that we could never be. I was foolish to think, and to daydream about him at certain moments. I was foolish to think that a small capitol like me, the capitol of Germany who had waged war over many other countries multiple times, would ever be loved by a strong, large nation such as Russia. I was foolish to hope that the lonliness of my past would be covered by and blanketed by this man. I was foolish, very much foolish.

A foolish girl with foolish dreams, foolishly dreaming of foolish love that's ought to be forbiddened. A foolish German girl who had failed to please her nation, and to make him proud. She had failed to protect him, showing how foolishly weak the foolish girl was.

And I was that foolish girl.

And I was that stupid girl. I was that dumb, lonley-hearted girl who had caused major damage. A girl who will be forever alone even by Germany himself. No one would want a capitol who's weak and foolish and clumsy, and one who falls for the enemy instead of her own men or alliances.

"Russia," I quietly sobbed, trying to be careful not to crack my voice. If I did, then fire would rage in my throat.

After repeating his name several times, the world suddenly faded to black. I was too weak whether to check if it was my eyelids closing, oy my conscience fading away. But every detail, even the faint sounds of the ruined German city of mine, faded into nothing, and faded to black.

**RUSSIA's P.O.V**

"Russia," Yes, she was calling my name alright. And everytime she did, I jumped. For some reason, to me, it was foriegn to hear her speak my name, even though I have heard her say it before. Before she had grown weak from the wall I had created, her voice sounded soft, soothing, and beautiful. But now it was cracked with weakness and fear.

I held her small, pale hand in mine, remembering when her skin tone was a perfect, healthy, apricot color. I squeezed her hand, hoping to cast warmth upon her fingers. I even intertwined my fingers through her's.

I leaned down and rested the bottom half of my face on the side of her head, removing my other hand that I had placed on her cheek. I could feel the sweat and feverish heat radiate from her, and a shiver ran down my spine even though the room was nice and warm; about room temperature. I wanted to cry as soon as I touched part of my face on her's. My lips trembled, but other than that, I didn't. I couldn't. I wouldn't. I had to be brave for her, whenever she woke up, and show her that I was helping. I doubt she will believe me.

I stroked her eyebrows with my thumbs, and her head jerked slightly. I sighed and continued, wishing only for her health to come back and for this war to stop.


	7. Chapter 7: The Feeling and the Questions

**BERLIN's P.O.V**

Making an effort to breath, I tried to gather my strength to look around the room. The room was getting dimmer; it must've been edging towards night. I groaned, though it was so low and soft that I could barely hear or feel it. A night trapped in this place with my enemy who wants to kill me. The Soviet soldier... commander... _Russia_. I shivered. I _was_ foolish! I couldn't see the danger that he was. Is. Forever will be. I whimpered, but like the growl, one could hardly tell it was there. Germany... I want my Papa Germany!

The door clicked open, and I squinted, as if it was the sun blinding my eyes. It made me light headed as I squinted so hard. My eyes were basically closed. I groaned again as my eyes adjusted themselves and saw who it was that came in.

_Russia_.

Panic gripped me like icy, boney fingers. _Could I ever get away from him_? He haunts this war, he haunts my dreams, and he still even haunts my desires and wishes. He still haunts my love.

A warm aroma drifted to my nose. Hot, salty, refreshing, and delicious. I was surprised I could smell at all, though it did give me a head ache.

"Berlin?" came Russia's smooth voice, almost casting me in a magical trance again. I wanted to break down and cry again, weep, shoo him away. He's making me look and feel weak.

I watched him as he sat down beside me on the bed. My stomach growled as the warm and delicious aroma drew closer to me. He grabbed a spoon, dipped it in the bowl, and lifted it. A brown liquid dripped down from it, along with a small, faint green thing. I squinted my eyes again. Maybe the aroma wasn't so satisfying after all.

"You are hungry, da?" the Russian asked.

I tried to speak, but my throat was so sore. So dry. I looked longfully at the spoon, wishing for it to be in my mouth, for my stomach to be filled with food. But how could I tell what it is? What happens if it was they key to death, that bite right there?

_Death._

Yes. Bring death. Let me be delivered to hell, by the hands of whom I love. No! Not love! I can't love him, but let him kill me anyway! No! No! Germany. I must live for him. But wouldn't I bring peace if I died? Let me die! Kill me! The Wall; kill me!

My breathing started to get heavy, and I crashed my head against the pillow again. I closed my eyes, the scent of the liquid too strong. I felt Russia tensing beside me. Oh... my head...

"Berlin," I felt his gloved fingers on my chin, then, warm against my cheek. I tilted my head towards the warmth of his hand. Cold... so cold. Still. I needed his warmth. "Berlin, you can speak, da?"

I opened my eyes again and stared at him. His violet ones twinkled with concern, with worry. He was afraid. Why? His hair was ruffled, his cheeks were red, and his eyes were all watery from tears. He has been crying. Why? What reason did he have to cry? What _right_ does he have to cry? _He's_ not the one who failed his country several times. _He's_ not the one who's getting his energy drained by a stupid wall. _He's_ not the one who's torn between what to do; who to love. What _right_ does he have?

"You can speak?" he asked again. I opened my mouth for the a sliver of a reply, but none came. I stared at him, my eyes burning, just like my skin.

Oh, but the burning on my skin was excellent. It was good. It felt wonderful. But the warmth wasn't mine. It was his. It was Russia's. I felt his thumb carrass my cheek bone. Light, warm, gentle, soft, reassuring. If I could smile, I would, but if I did, my lips would bleed heavily. I loved this feeling. The feeling of security, of reassuring passion. It was the kind of carrasses Germany would give me, only his carrasses were under my chin, at the side. I loved it. The feel of it...

The feel of it...

I could feel again! I could feel the strong warmth radiating from Russia's hand. I could feel hunger gripping at my belly. I could feel my tired, aching, sore muscles and limbs. My head throbbed. My throat was sore. I felt like I was on Hell's doorstep, which in a way, I was. But it felt so wonderful to feel again! I had my nerves, still. I can feel the pain, and it was such a relief. What was the saying; I would rather hurt than feel nothing at all? Hell yes to that!

I must have closed my eyes and dozed off for a second, because I was then jerked awake by a frightened Russian. When I woke, his hair was even more frazzled, cheeks red like a tomato that Uncle Romano would eat, tears streaming down his face like rivers. Rivers of salty tears. Tears being spilled for God knows what reason.

"Oh, Berlin!" his voice cracked with tears. "I thought you were dead. You... you wouldn't wake..."

"R-Russia..."

"Da? Da!"

His panicked, yet relieved face... I couldn't handle it... He looks so hurt...

"Russia... you... you're crying..." I said, my voice dry, cracked. It hurts to speak.

"Oh... I guess I am." He smiles, wiping his tears away with one wrist. He smiles at me, and my heart pains. How could I possibly not love him? His smile. It's wonderful, magnificent, cute. The more he smiled at me, the more my heart breaks, because I know that I would never stand a chance with him. Dead or alive.

"W-why?" I said weakly. He froze.

**RUSSIA's P.O.V**

How wonderful it was to see her awake. How wonderful to was to see her alive. Wonderful to see her talking. I knew she was trying desperately to talk, desperate to make a sound. She was straining, stressing herself, wasting energy that she had so little of.

"Do not speak, you need your energy." I avoided her question, and turned my attention down to the soup I had brung up for her. "I made some soup for you, da?" I said, scooping a spoonfull of the broth from the bowl. "You are hungry, da?"

She did not reply, she just stared at me. Her icy blue eyes like ice slicing into my soul. I felt no emotion in them, other than pain. Her pain was deep, both physically and mentally. My blood ran cold as I continued to stare into her eyes. They were still beautiful, the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen, and it was hurting me to destroy such a wonderful thing. So beautiful, she was, but yet I was destroying her! Such a marvelous structure, and it cannot fall. It will not tumble and crumble. I am here... I will protect her... Heal her... Love her...

Finally her lips parted and allowed me to feed her. It felt weird doing this, as if I was mothering a child. A child so sacred, it felt unjust to feed her like this. Or was this unjust feeling the voice deep inside my gut telling me to kill her? She is my enemy? No... _nyet_... I can't.

I continued to feed her in silence, with nothing but the wind howling outside, whipping up snow in its bony grasps. I cringed. The snow. It was him. General Winter. He came here often, he covered my lands with his white, glistening body. Vast stretches of his cold wrath. Blizzards and ice storms, cold bitterness. The islands are what I prefer. The southern islands, full if tropical warmth and paradise. Where I can grow my sunflowers and not be bothered with snow. The cold isolates me, and I am alone here. Alone with only Latvia, Estonia, and Lithuania to keep me company. Only they weren't enough. They were sevants of mine. I _was_ alone. Only the cold drafts of General Winter's breath told me other wise, and he was the only kind of company I did not want.

After what seemed like an hour, though I knew it wasn't, she spoke again.

"Why are you doing zi-" She got interrupted by a fit of coughs, and I winced as she cried out in agonizing pain.

"V-vhy are you doing zis, R-russia? I-I'm you're enemy."

My heart skipped a beat as my brain proccessed what she said next. I swore, I had a heart attack, the most painful one ever recorded in all of history.

"You're m-my enemy... R-Russia... v-vhy don't you kill me already?"

She was giving in.


End file.
